


And Until Then, We'll Make A Living

by ificecanburn



Series: Dancing With Our Hands Tied [2]
Category: Black Lagoon (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Abortion, Blood, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Dark Past, Discussion of Abortion, F/M, Gang Violence, Graphic Description, Guns, Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), Past Sexual Abuse, Plot, Romance, Romantic Angst, Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-11 04:11:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15307227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ificecanburn/pseuds/ificecanburn
Summary: A series of one-shots which serve as a continuation to my fic Dancing With Our Hands Tied, set in the Black Lagoon universe.Not necessarily in chronological order.If you haven't read part one you're not going to like this.





	1. Here's To Where It All Began

A knock at the door woke Astrid several hours earlier than she would have liked. 

She'd had a job the night before, a late one. It had gone three in the morning when she finally got her target, one clean shot through the head at a distance of almost 500 metres. She had hoped to be able to sleep until at least the afternoon. After all, she had earned it. The job had been a good pay-day. 

But she wasn't expecting anyone, and curiosity got the better of her. With a groan Astrid rolled out of bed, pushing her dark, wavy hair back off her face, and grabbing her Beretta from where it lay on the bedside table. She checked that it was loaded, took the safety off, and walked through her new apartment to the door. 

The peep hole Astrid had installed when she moved in provided a good view of the hallway. She had been caught out once before by not knowing who she was opening a door to, and wasn't going to let it happen again. The hallway was empty. 

Confused, and more than a little suspicious, Astrid retracted the metal fox lock and turned the key to open the door, keeping her Beretta held high with her finger on the trigger. She opened the door in one quick movement. 

There was a package on the floor in front of her. It was addressed to "Aurora." Astrid chuckled to herself before picking up the package and bringing it inside, locking the door behind her. Today was her twenty-sixth birthday. In truth, she hadn't been expecting presents, but she knew exactly who this was from.

The package contained another box, this one wooden and gleaming. Astrid lifted the lid and couldn't help her mouth falling open as she saw its contents. 

On top were several long stemmed red roses, and underneath... was the most beautiful gun Astrid had ever seen. She tried to remove the roses carefully, but still pricked herself on a thorn. She inhaled sharply and stuck her finger in her mouth for a moment to stem the blood, but was too impatient to wait long. Removing the rest of the roses, she picked up the gun from where it lay in it's case. 

"Holy shit, Bai..." 

It was an AMT Hardballer, custom made, designed to fire fullmetal jacketed bullets. It was silver, beautifully shined, with gleaming black accents and engraving on the grip. On the inside of the grip were her initials, her real ones; A.K., Astrid Knight. A grin spread across Astrid's face as she aimed it at the wall and felt the weight of it in her hands. There was ammo, which Astrid took out of the box, along with matching black leather shoulder and thigh holsters which would fit her new gun perfectly. Astrid was about to close the lid when she noticed a velvet box right at the bottom. 

Putting her new gun down on the table, she reached in and took out the box slightly nervously. It felt plush beneath her fingers, expensive. She knew before she opened it that she'd never received a gift like this before. Underneath the box was a card, thick white paper with one letter written on it in cursive; B. 

Astrid sat down on her sofa and opened the box. Inside was a necklace, white gold, with a pendent of two interlocking rings. It was beautiful, simple but elegant, exactly Chang's style. It was perfect. Astrid took it out of the box and hurried over to the mirror to put it on. It was expensive, sure, but there were no diamonds or anything like that, nothing flashy that would give her away. It wasn't too smart to walk around Roanapur in expensive jewellery, but she could tuck it under her shirt. 

Still smiling, Astrid admired her reflection, turning so the necklace would catch the light. Her hair was still a mess, and she was wearing the t-shirt and underwear she had slept in, but it didn't matter.  
Astrid knew Chang wasn't trying win her over or get her back. Things were what they were between them, and if she knew him at all she knew a large part of him was still angry at her for what she had done. Maybe this was his way of letting her know that he was still watching her. Or thinking of her. What they'd had was complicated. 

 

The plan for that night was Yellow Flag, like most nights, maybe with a few extra shots to celebrate the fact that it was her birthday. Astrid got ready quickly, not bothering with makeup but showering and brushing her hair in her bathroom mirror. The cuts on her cheekbone, above her eyebrow, and her on back had faded into scars, slowly turning white and fading with time. The bathroom in this apartment was larger than the one in her last. With the money Astrid had made off her deal with Chang and Balalaika she had been able to move to a bit of a nicer place, with better security. It was nothing fancy, she wouldn't have felt comfortable with that and it was more important to her to keep money saved, but it was more than one room, and her CD player worked.

Astrid had a safe where she kept some cash, but most of her money was either deposited securely at what passed for a bank in Roanapur, the one place you could trust, or "working for her," in investments, as Cho had put it. 

Her cut from the disc deal had been $200,000. Add to that the $100,000 Chang had gifted her, minus what her new sniper rifle and expert equipment had cost, and it amounted to more money than Astrid had dealt with before. Once she had finished drinking to celebrate and rented her new apartment, there wasn't much else she needed to buy. Cho had told her it was pointless to let the money sit around, when she could use it to make more. "Money makes money," he had said. 

At first Astrid thought she should give Chang back his $100,000. He had meant for her to leave Roanapur with that money, and instead she had defied him and made even more by thwarting one of his operations. But Cho told her no way. 

"100k isn't all that much to the Triad," he had informed her, "the boss won't miss it, and returning it to him would be an insult. It was a gift." 

So instead Cho had helped her out with investments in the city that could be trusted and relied upon to turn a profit. Couple that with the fact that Astrid was making a steady income working as a sniper with her new kit (which, frankly, she loved more than anyone had any right to love a gun), and she had amassed enough money to really feel secure for the first time in her life. Even if everything went to shit, she had the cash to fall back on. She didn't need to rely on anybody else. 

 

"Hey, Asti!" Eda called, grinning ear to ear as soon as Astrid arrived at Yellow Flag. "Good, you're here. You're buying." 

"It's my birthday!" 

"Yeah, and you're flush right now!"

Come on, Astrid," Revy said, Rock smiling sheepishly on her right, "spread the love." Astrid rolled her eyes, but put some cash down on the bar. This had been a semi-regular occurrance recently, but she didn't really mind. It was actually kind of cool being the one who could pay for people. 

"Nice," said Revy, "hey, Bao! Bring us all the rum you got." 

No one really gave a fuck about birthdays in Roanapur. It was just another excuse to get drunk, not that Revy needed one, usually. Astrid, Eda, Revy and Rock drank steadily, laughing and shooting the shit, Eda doing her best to piss Revy off, Revy letting her push her buttons, Rock trying to pretend it wasn't about him, and Astrid enjoying the show. 

"I mean, what kind of woman has a jacked up tattoo like that?" Eda teased, and a vein started to pop in Revy's forehead, "I ask you?" 

"Shut the fuck up, Eda," Revy told her, "just because you're too chicken shit to get any ink-"

"Oh I've got ink, baby," Eda retorted, "just not anywhere you can see right now." She winked at Rock, making Revy flush red with anger. 

"What about you, Astrid?" Rock asked in a half laughing tone, trying to change the subject, "do you have any tattoos?" 

"Do I look like I have any tattoos?" Astrid asked, holding out her bare arms and pretending to inspect them, "or are you asking if I have any tattoos in places you don't see?"

"Aw come the fuck on-" Revy groaned, but was cut off by Eda.

"Astrid!" she all but shouted, "You've been in Roanapur how long now, and you don't have any ink? How the fuck is that possible?" Astrid shrugged, and before she knew it she was being dragged off her bar-stool. "Come on," Eda told her, Rock and Revy shrugging but following. 

"Come on where?" 

"Birthday present." 

Eda took Astrid to a tattoo shop on the shore-front. It didn't look like much, but the blonde insisted it was the best place around. 

"Come on, Astrid," she said, "pick one, on me. I mean, don't go nuts or anything..." 

"What about you, Rock?" Astrid asked as she perused the pictures on the wall, "you going to get one?" Revy burst out laughing. 

"This guy?" she said, "nah, he'd probably faint at the sight of a needle!" Rock put his hands up, shaking his head.

"Me? No," he replied, ignoring Revy, "it's just so permanent-"

"That's kind of the point-"

"Is one of you getting inked or not?" The tattooist asked, impatient, "pick something already."

"Fine," Astrid said, her eyes landing on something, "this one." 

It really didn't hurt that bad, Astrid thought, no matter how much Revy tried to big it up. She'd definitely had worse. Astrid was sitting backwards on a chair to give the artist access to her back, in just her bra with the strap pulled down. 

"Are you almost done?" Revy demanded, getting bored.

"Almost," the tattoo artist replied over the buzzing of the needle. "There," he said, leaning back, "take a look at that." 

Astrid stood up and walked over to a mirror, turning to look at the tattoo on her left shoulder blade. It was a single rose in black ink, complete with stem and thorns. It was right underneath the scar those bastards that had kidnapped her had left on her back.

"That's it?" Revy asked, "pretty small," 

"It's great," Eda said, aware, no doubt, that she was paying. 

"Yeah, it's a work of art," said the tattoo artist sarcastically, approaching Astrid with some seran wrap and tape. "Take this off tomorrow morning, keep it clean." Astrid put her shirt back on.

"You can look now, Rock," she told the Japanese man, who had been making a show of examining the different tattoos while Astrid had been topless. 

 

The four of them had resumed drinking on the deck of Lagoon Company's boat, since it was closer than Yellow Flag and had booze. They kept it in the harbour, no one sober enough or with the inclination to try and drive it (besides which, Dutch would probably have killed them if they did). 

Astrid returned home to her apartment at 4 am. Thank fuck she didn't have to work tomorrow. She remembered the days when a night of heavy drinking would mean working the strip club with a hangover the next day, especially if Rowan was pissed at her for some reason and gave her a shitty day shift. Now she worked for herself, and she didn't have any jobs tomorrow. She could sleep as late as she wanted. 

Collapsing backwards onto her bed, Astrid stared at the ceiling, toying with the necklace around her neck. In quiet moments like this, she really missed what she'd had with Bai. 

It had been a mess, but they were messy people. They led messy lives. Maybe if she had known better, things could have worked out differently... but no, Astrid told herself, it was never going to work out. Even if she hadn't done what she did. And she did what she had to, to survive. 

But she still missed him. She missed the nights she found herself in his private rooms, when he would come to her, dressed in a full suit and tie, tired from the day. He would take off his sunglasses first, always, and go to her. He'd put his hands in her hair, pushing it back off her face, a small smile on his lips, and just look at her for a moment before kissing her. Sometimes several weeks would have passed since they had last seen each other, but he'd still try to take his time, start things off slowly. 

Sometimes Astrid wondered what she wouldn't give for one more night with him. She spent her nights dreaming he was still with her, trying to hold onto the memories that were beginning to slip away. The few shirts of his she had held onto were losing his scent.

Chang had been her solid ground for a long time, but now he was a mix of friend and enemy. 

 

Making his way up to his private rooms, Chang loosened his tie, finally able to take a breath. It had been a long day. The meeting he had attended had run late, and it was almost 4 am. He was exhausted.  
Finally he made it to his rooms, shut his door on his bodyguards, and was alone. He was only glad of the solitude for a minute. Taking off his sunglasses, Chang approached the bar and poured himself a large drink. He went and sat down in a leather chair with a view out the window and drank slowly, thinking. 

Astrid had received his gift, he had been told. A Hardballer, one of his preferred guns, and a necklace that he had chosen himself. Somehow he couldn't see Astrid decked out in jewels like some women. The phrase 'gilding the lily' came to mind. He had chosen something simple, classic. Two interlocking circles. Chang chose not to think too much about the symbolism. 

He was still furious at her for the stunt she had pulled, that hadn't gone away. It had been a betrayal, no matter how Astrid tried to frame it. He wanted her to know that he still had his eye on her. But still... but still. He had wanted to give her something. The gun simply because he could picture her smile when she opened it. And the necklace... maybe he wanted her to walk around the city with something from him wrapped around her neck. 

After a long while of drinking silently Chang set his glass down on a small side table and stood up, walking over to his beside table where he kept several photos. He opened it and found the one he was looking for, walked with it back over to his chair. Right now, this photo of her was his favourite, though that changed regularly. Balalaika had managed to find copies of a lot of photos taken of Astrid, most of them when she was serving in the Israeli Army as Aurora Levy. Someone, one of her military friends, had been camera happy. In this photo she was standing in a crowded city street; Tel Aviv, if he had to guess. She was wearing a denim jacket, the same one he'd seen her in a hundred times, and a baseball cap, nothing special. She wasn't even really smiling, just staring into the camera, her face drawing the eye. Chang wondered what she had been thinking. 

Why hadn't he taken any pictures of her when they were together? It hadn't occurred to him at the time. 

"You bitch," he said to the photograph. The sun was starting to come up. He drained his glass.


	2. The Places I've Been and Things I've Seen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback and a hop forward.

The desert air was dry and acrid. It was something Astrid remembered very strongly from that night. Over the years she was sure she had exaggerated the hellishness of the arid air, the bone dry sand and the constant wind that had dried her eyes and mouth, because never before or since- and she had spent many years in the region since that night- had she experienced anything like it.

  
It was dark and dry and the ground was rock hard, until it wasn't. It happened fast, suddenly the air smelled of diesel and bright lights illuminated them like they were on a stage. There was shouting, and Astrid squinted, throwing her arm over her eyes to try and shield them. More shouting, then the gunfire. That rapid fire cracking sound Astrid had heard before, but never up close. It made her ears ring. She hit the hard ground and watched through shielded eyes as her father was shredded, bullets passing through his body like it was jelly, leaving exit wounds the size of an orange in his back and dragging blood and organ tissue along with them. The back of her mother's head exploded outwards. Blood was everywhere, it got in her eyes, blinding her until she blinked furiously. The ground beneath her bruised knees and grasping fingers was no longer hard and dry. The power of what had erupted around her made her head spin, and all Astrid felt she could do was hold onto the ground and wait for it to stop.

  
The blood was clouding her vision, making everything around her a red, blurry haze. The wind was growing stronger, soon it had risen so high Astrid couldn't hear the voices of the people surrounding her, silhouettes in the bright headlights of the trucks with their gasoline smell and thunder like engines. The blood spread and spread in the sand beneath her, turning the ground wet and soft. It sucked her down like quicksand, she was too shocked to struggle. She took a last panicked breath before the blood filled her mouth and lungs.

  
Astrid awoke with a start, sitting up violently and jumping again almost immediately as the book she had been reading fell to the floor with a thud.

  
"You were muttering in your sleep."

  
Balalaika spoke without even looking up. The Russian was seated at her desk, reading documents in the dim light of her old fashioned lamp. The whole office looked like it had been lifted right out of soviet Russia; the dark wood, heavy upholstery and curtains made it feel almost womb like.

  
"Sorry," Astrid murmured automatically, sitting up and brushing her hair back from her sweat soaked forehead.

  
She and Balalaika had been having one of their informal lessons, and afterwards Astrid had stayed to read a book on military tactics, and just be. She didn't like being alone as much, these days, but she didn't always want to be surrounded by people bothering her, or forced to socialise. Balalaika didn't mind if Astrid stayed in her office while she worked. Astrid found it soothing to sit in silence in the older woman's strong presence; any room Balalaika was in was completely under her control. At least, it seemed that way to Astrid.

  
Tonight she had dozed off without meaning to. She was exhausted, hadn't been sleeping well, and it showed.

  
"I wasn't seeking an apology," Balalaika continued, curiously, as Astrid stood up and walked over to the window. She was covered in sweat. Sitting down on the windowsill, Astrid opened the window and took out a cigarette and a lighter. The warm Roanapur air wasn't exactly refreshing, but it was something. Astrid took a breath and lit up. "You were dreaming."

  
Astrid stared out the window and didn't look at Balalaika. She didn't answer. The streetlights were on, it was dark. It had gotten late while she slept. Balalaika waited for Astrid to answer her, and Astrid stubbornly continued to pretend the statement required no further conversation. Eventually Balalaika chuckled, and muttered something in Russian. Astrid held out for a few seconds before curiosity and impatience got the better of her.

  
"Hmm?"

  
"I said, _stubborn girl_ ," Balalaika informed her, with a slight smile. Astrid suppressed an eye-roll (Balalaika didn't like it). She took another long drag of her cigarette instead, and closed her eyes. "Dozing off again?"

  
"I doubt it."

  
"What were you dreaming about?" The question was shockingly direct. Astrid opened her eyes. Balalaika always knew the right thing to say to get under her opponents skin. She had a way of making Astrid feel like she had very little say in how any interactions between them went.

  
For a long moment neither of them said anything, but Astrid knew the conversation wasn't going to move on until she had given a satisfactory answer.

  
"The desert," she said, finally, "a long time ago."

  
"And what happened, in the desert?" Balalaika pushed, her tone letting Astrid know she was only going to humour her for so long. If Astrid didn't want to answer, she didn't have to; Balalaika wouldn't make her. If she didn't want to answer, she could leave, but she wasn't to sit there in her office and be obtuse.

  
Astrid chewed her lower lip for a moment, thinking of how best to answer.

  
"Bloodshed," she said, finally.

  
"War?"

  
"Something like that."


	3. Treacherous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inserting Astrid into the main story again.

Eda always seemed to be around lately. Astrid wasn't sure if she was imagining it, but it seemed like wherever she was, Eda turned up. She put it down to the cheap bitch just wanting free booze, and so didn't think much of it when she ran into the nun, who was clearly on her way to Yellow Flag.

  
"Hey, Astrid!" the nun greeted her, looking nothing like a nun in a green mini skirt and pink halter top that might have looked like it once belonged to a child, if it weren't for the middle finger right between her tits. "Just who I was looking for."

"What's up, Eda?" Astrid responded. "I'm not going to Yellow Flag, if that's what you're wondering. Need to visit the gun store." She needed ammo, might check out some of the new equipment.

"Hah!" Eda laughed, "good fucking luck. They'll be cleaned out. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. You heard about all the deaths around here, lately." 

"Yeah..." Astrid said, not sure where Eda was going with this. She had heard, of course, about several members of Roanapur's various mafias getting taken out. She had figured someone was making a move. 

"Well, turns out it's not just the usual gangster on gangster shit," Eda told her, "some mad fucker is out there killing people, and there's a bounty of-" 

"No," Astrid said, firmly, before Eda could even finish.

"-of $50,000-" 

"No, Eda."

"Awh, comon!" The blonde pushed her pink sunglasses up on top of her head. "Is this because of last time?"

"Yes." 

"That's not gonna happen again!" 

"No way, Eda. No way am I taking another job you recommend."

"It's 50k!"

"It could be 50 million and I still wouldn't go in on it with you!" Astrid retorted, "and if you're smart you'll think twice about going after it yourself. 'Cause Eda, and I really mean this, you have piss poor judgement." 

"Fuck you!" Eda told her, both her t-shirt and the nun herself now flipping her off. "Whatever. I'll go ask Two-Hands, she hasn't lost her nerve..." 

"I'll let her know you said that." 

"Fuck off!"

"Whatever, Eda. See you around." Astrid left, continuing to the gun shop. When she got there, she found Eda had been right, the place was pretty much cleaned out. This must really be some serious shit. For a moment Astrid actually thought twice about turning her down, but... no, it was dumb, and all those freelancers who'd come here looking for a pay-day were going to be shit out of luck. If someone was killing gangsters, the mafia would handle it. Astrid wasn't stupid enough to get in the way.

If she had to guess, she thought Chang would already have called a meeting by now, advocating for cooperation between the different groups until this killer was caught. 

Astrid was able to buy a few rounds for her sniper rifle, as well as a couple of boxes of fullmetal jacketed bullets for her new Hardballer, but that was all that was left that was worth buying. She went home. If there was someone out there the mafias wanted to take out, she might get a call for some work. And if she didn't, then she probably wanted to be off the streets, anyway. If even half the shit that had been cleared out of the store- never mind what Astrid knew was available up at the Rip-Off church- was on the streets in the hands of idiots looking to get rich quick, then she didn't want to be.

 

The call came about a week later. 

In the end Hotel Moscow had seen to the killer, like Astrid had figured they would, but not without Astrid getting drawn into the operation. It had turned out to be two killers. Kids. And Astrid had thought she'd had a messed up childhood. 

Balalaika had used herself as bait, and called on Astrid to make use of her skills as a sniper. The Russian had made it clear that if it were possible, she'd be the one up on that rooftop, but even the formidable leader of Hotel Moscow couldn't be in two places at once. Astrid took it as a huge compliment that she was second choice. 

The glow of bagging the job had worn off quickly, however, when Astrid found herself staring down the scope of her sniper rifle, watching a kid slowly die. That one had left a bad taste in her mouth. 

She hadn't accepted payment for that job. She just asked Balalaika to keep her in mind for the next, hopefully more pleasant operation. 

When Astrid answered the phone, it wasn't a voice she was expecting. Only one person from the Triad ever called her anymore, and that was Cho. Instead it was Tao who introduced himself, sounding nervous.

"Look," he told her, after some beating about the bush, "I'm not even sure if I should be calling you."

"Just spit it out, Tao," Astrid said, losing patience. 

"Cho's dead." 

Suddenly, Astrid's ears didn't seem to be working.

"What?" she asked, finally.

"Cho is dead," Tao repeated. 

"...what?"

"Cho-"

"I know, I just... I mean, what are you talking about?" On the end of the line, Tao sighed.

"Those crazy Romanian twins got him," he said, speaking slowly, "gunned him down. They had a mini gun. He wasn't the only one, but I know you two were friends, so..." Astrid's ears were ringing. "The funeral is tomorrow," Tao informed her, "and no one had told you... the boss didn't say anything about calling you, but... I figured you should know." He finished rather lamely, and cleared his throat.

The line was silent for a long time.

"Thanks, Tao," Astrid said, finally, hanging up.

 

Astrid couldn't process it. Cho was dead. They hadn't been close, exactly, but a friend in this town was rare. She'd been as close to Cho as anyone. It didn't seem real. 

She headed down to Traid headquarters for the first time in a long time, not stopping too long to think about what she was doing. When she stormed through the front doors she was met by first shocked, then sympathetic looks. It incensed her. 

"Where is he?" she asked the guy she knew was in charge of access. 

"The boss-"

"Not him," Astrid said, angry that they didn't get it, "where is he?" 

"Astrid," Tao appeared, and began trying to take control of the situation. "Astrid, now's not a good time."

"I need to see him," she insisted, her voice wavering slightly. None of them understood. Suddenly she felt lost at sea. All around her were the faces of strangers. They were men she had thought she knew, had been friendly with, but really it had been Cho who was her tie to the Triad beyond Chang. Cho would have understood. 

How could this be real if she couldn't see him with her own eyes? 

The elevator pinged open, and Chang stepped out, flanked by two bodyguards, someone new standing over his right shoulder where Cho had once stood. He was surprised; Astrid could tell, even if he barely reacted, and his face was half hidden behind dark glasses. She knew him well enough, now. 

Anger flooded her chest at the sight of him. He hadn't even thought to call her, to tell her about this. She walked over to him, and both bodyguards stepped out from behind Chang and blocked her path. Chang watched her.

"What's going on?" he said to the room, not to her. 

"She wants to see Cho," Tao told him, and, to his credit, he continued, trying to give Astrid a hand, "she's just upset, boss, I think she's having a hard time processing-"

"Thank you, Tao," Chang cut him off. Clearly when he wanted Tao's opinion, he would ask for it. Astrid could tell he was about to brush her off, tell her to leave. 

"Bai," she said, pleading. His eyes, still hidden, turned back to her. Astrid couldn't say how she could tell, she just could. Her own eyes were shining slightly, and she held her jaw firm to stop her bottom lip quivering. She hated to show her pain. She hated asking him for anything when he treated her like a stranger. 

Chang's expression didn't change, but Astrid could see him melt a little. 

"Stand down," he told his bodyguards, finally, and they moved aside. Astrid stepped forward towards Chang. 

"I need to see him," she repeated, more quietly, just to him.

"The body is here," Chang replied, dodging the issue. "The funeral is tomorrow."

"Can I-?"

"No," he was firm, "Triad only. That's the way it's always done." Astrid scowled up at him, her jaw still clenched, along with her fists. She wanted to smack those sunglasses off his face. She wanted him to look at her properly. 

Chang sighed. He knew Astrid wouldn't leave quietly. His choices were either to give her what she was after, or have her escorted from the building. With how emotional she was, he wasn't entirely sure how smoothly the latter would go. Astrid had been known to make stupid decisions. 

And... she was asking him for something. Chang could count on one hand the amount of times Astrid had asked him for anything. She was staring up at him with those big eyes, shining slightly with tears she tried to hide, her jaw set, stubborn, a wrinkle between her eyebrows that she got when she was angry. He had never been able to deny her anything, especially not when she was like this. 

"You can see the body," he told her, "for a moment. Now. I don't have all night." He turned to head back to the elevator, and his men made to follow them. "Wait here," he told them, and they stopped. If they were surprised, they didn't let it show. It wasn't strictly necessary for Chang to escort Astrid himself, but... 

They stepped into the elevator together, and Chang pressed a button for the basement. The doors shut. 

"Thank you," Astrid said, quietly, once they were alone. Chang knew that had always been tough for her, taking help, let alone acknowledging it, so he said nothing. 

"I didn't know you two were so close," he said, and Astrid turned her head almost imperceptibly away from him, not dignifying the thinly veiled accusation with a response. 

"Is that why you didn't bother calling to let me know?" Chang didn't answer. "I hung around Triad headquarters for two years, Bai," she continued, and Chang was both pleased and irritated at her refusal to revert to calling him something less personal. "What did you think I did when you were late, or in the mornings when you were gone?" 

Chang realised that he had never thought about it. It had never crossed his mind. 

"Cho would give me advice, sometimes..." Astrid told him, crossing her arms in front of herself. They reached the basement floor, and the doors opened. "He's been... he had been, helping me with money. Investments and stuff." 

Chang snorted. Insubordinate bastard. They walked together a little way down the hall.

"He's through there," he told Astrid, indicating the door in front of them. She didn't even bother to ask why they kept the bodies here, and not at a morgue. She knew enough about Roanapur morgues to know the answer. 

"I just need a minute," she told him, her way of letting him know she wanted to be alone. Chang took the hint and stayed standing in the hallway. Astrid opened the door, entered the room, closed it behind her with a click.

There were two coffins in the otherwise sterile white room. 

Suddenly, Astrid was eleven years old again, standing in a white tiled room in a military base hospital, alone, looking at the coffins containing her dead parents. Those coffins had been plain pine, the first ones Astrid had ever seen. She hadn't looked inside. She'd seen her parents get shot, didn't need to see their bullet riddled corpses to understand what had happened.

With a real effort Astrid pulled herself back to reality. She didn't know which coffin was Cho's, would have to guess. Approaching the coffin nearest her, Astrid took a deep breath and slowly lifted the lid. 

It was him. Astrid pushed the lid all the way back and looked at his body. It was really him, he was really dead. He was gone. Astrid covered her mouth with the sleeve of her denim jacket as tears started rolling down her face. It finally hit her, and she felt angry and totally helpless in the face of the unfairness of it all. Why had this happened? Why wasn't there something she could do about it? Why was this the shit, rotting world they lived in? 

Astrid wiped her face before leaving the room, but her eyes were still red. Chang, caught off guard and out of habit, removed his sunglasses to look at her properly. 

"You're really upset," he said. It wasn't a question. 

"You're not." 

"People die, Astrid, especially in this line of work. The bastards who did it are dead. That's all there is to it."

"I know," Astrid replied through a clenched jaw, "I killed one of them myself." Chang actually did seem surprised at that.

"I thought Balalaika, and Hotel Moscow..."

"Yeah. They needed a sniper." Astrid had been positioned with Balalaika in her sights, tasked with keeping the Russian safe and following her instructions through an earpiece. Chang seemed to be mulling this over in his head. Astrid wondered if he knew what had transpired there... no, of course he knew. He knew everything that happened in this city. The surprise was at learning of her loyalty to Balalaika, and the trust the other boss had placed in her. 

"So you killed one," he said, finally, "doesn't that make you feel better?"

"It was a fucking kid, Bai." 

"So?"

Astrid didn't answer. Yes, when she first heard about Cho's death, it had made her feel better to think of that kid dying in a pool of his own blood. She wasn't proud of it. When it became clear she wasn't going to answer, Chang sighed and continued.

"You've never had anyone die on you, before?" 

"That was war," Astrid told him, shaking her head, turning to walk back down the hall, put some distance between herself and Cho. Chang walked with her. 

"So was this." 

"This was _pointless_ ," Astrid said, getting agitated, "fucking _kids_ with a mini-gun..." 

"They weren't just kids," Chang corrected, watching Astrid run a hand through her hair. 

"Whatever, it..." she stopped walking, turning to look at him, "it doesn't matter, I just needed to see it, with my own eyes. Just to know it was real." Chang nodded. He remembered when death had seemed like a big deal to him, too. But then, it wasn't death that was a big deal, to Astrid. She traded in death, was surrounded by it. It was accepting a death you didn't want to happen. She was still young; she still thought she had some control over her world. 

Silence fell between them. Chang was suddenly achingly aware that they were alone. It seemed Astrid was, too. 

There was a tear stain on her cheek, right over the fading scar. He raised his hand to brush it away without thinking, and cupped her face gently in his palm. Astrid closed her eyes for a moment, turning into his touch, and Chang felt his heart swell. 

"Bai..." 

"I know," he conceded, but stepped closer to her all the same, too close. After a moments hesitation Astrid's hands slid around his waist, under his jacket, resting on his sides. He shivered slightly at her touch. Her familiar scent had a drugging effect on him, and he could tell it was the same for her. His hand moved from her cheek to her hair, and he felt her warm breath ghost over his neck, moving to his cheek as she turned her head. 

Their lips were inches from each other, and they held them there, both of them breathing slightly unsteadily, hanging on a cliff edge. 

"We can't," Astrid said, quietly, without resolve. 

"I know..." Chang repeated, trying to get a grip. The pull of Astrid's gravity was too strong. She sighed, and he felt himself weakening.

"We need... we have to stop..."

"I can't." 

"Remember how I screwed you out of ten percent of your profits?" Astrid reminded him, and he could hear a slight smile on her lips.

"That helps," Chang replied, starting to move away, but at the last second Astrid's hands gripped onto him, stopping him from going too far. He groaned, heat flooding his body at the feel of her holding onto him, at knowing she was feeling what he felt. "That doesn't." 

"I'm sorry," she said, resting her forehead against his chest. Chang was glad he couldn't see her face, which he knew would be slightly flushed, her eyes clouded with a look that would break him. 

"Don't be sorry," he told her, "we just... we know how this ends."

"I know."

"I am still so fucking angry at you."

"I know," he felt her take a deep, steadying breath, before lifting her head, her lips now close to his neck. "I don't want all the shit that comes with us, either," Chang agreed, wholeheartedly, "but..." 

"Astrid-"

"I still want you-" Chang inhaled sharply.

"Don't-" 

"-Bai." 

"Fuck." His name left her lips in half a whisper, but it was enough. Chang gripped her hard, "fuck, Astrid, don't talk to me like that... you have no idea what it does to me." 

"It's as hard for me as it is for you."

"Somehow, I doubt that," Chang quipped, closing his eyes, breathing heavily. "Right now I feel like I would give up everything, just for one hour alone with you," he told her, "which is exactly why we can't." 

"I know," Astrid murmured, moving her head so she was looking him in the eye, "you're right." Her lips were inches from his own again. 

Chang kissed her. 

Astrid reacted instantly, wrapping her arms around his neck as he crushed her to him. He kissed her hard, desperately, and it was everything. 

With a herculean effort he stopped, resting his forehead against hers, breathing hard.

"I don't forgive you," he breathed against her lips as she raked her fingers through his hair.

"I don't forgive you, either." 

Chang stepped away, and Astrid didn't try and stop him. She was his fatal flaw, would be his destruction if he didn't get control. He wanted her more than anything, would kill for her, do anything for her, and that was dangerous. 

"Go," he told her, his voice rough. He couldn't stand another second alone with her without grabbing her and fucking her senseless, and there was no way he could manage a whole elevator ride next to her. 

Astrid didn't need to be told twice, already at the upper limits of her self-control. She had never been good at resisting temptation. She walked away, wanting to turn back with every step, and got in the elevator. She tried to compose herself in the short time it took to reach the ground floor. When she did, she headed straight for the exit without looking at anyone. For the first time, as the warm air hit her, Astrid wished that Roanapur was cooler. Cold air would have helped a lot, right now. 


	4. Tears In The Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I strongly recommend listening to Tears In The Rain by The Weeknd, not only because it's an amazing song but because it really captures this chapter for me. 
> 
> I like making this character more human.

The girl he was fucking kept twisting around to look at him, and Chang closed his eyes to stop from seeing her face, pressing her down so she was bent over the arm of the sofa. She kept trying to look at him, biting her lip in a way she obviously thought was sexy, unaware that her face was of no interest to him. 

She was a brunette, but not like... not like her. Taller, fake tits, narrowed eyes, more makeup, small details Chang tried to focus on. It was only such a problem for him because he had seen her today, he told himself. That was it. 

He finished and pulled out of the girl, who collapsed onto the sofa. Leaving her there Chang walked over to the bar and grabbed his drink and a cigarette. He walked over to the window and set his glass down on a small table to light up. Looking out over the city he smoked and took a long drink, hearing the girl stand up and walk naked over to him. 

"That was amazing," she lied, one arm snaking around his chest, the other over his shoulder. Her perfume was strong and cheap. They were all the same. Chang shrugged her off, roughly. He didn't know why he continued on like this... once he finished, it all seemed pointless. 

"You can leave," he told her, not looking at her face. There was always a girl like this, the ones who wanted to stay, who imagined that he would like them enough to keep them around. Maybe they even harboured fantasies of him falling for them, buying them things, giving them the life they wanted... professionals were better. Strippers or otherwise. They knew where their boundaries were. 

She had never wanted all that. She'd never asked him for anything. 

The girl- Chang had already forgotten her name, if he ever knew it- huffed silently as she got dressed and left. It didn't bother him. She'd come back, if he called. Almost any girl in this city would come if he called, and brag to their friends about it later, all looking for a taste of money, power, and luxury. 

Sometimes he thought... he wondered if maybe Astrid would have preferred him without all of that, so they could have been free to be together with fewer complications. 

When he'd had her, he had been with other women. He didn't seek them out like he did now, didn't have someone sent up to his rooms at the end of a long day, but if the opportunity had presented itself... he had acted without restraint. It had seemed important at the time to continue to act as he always had done. He couldn't remember why. 

Chang felt shame when he thought of those times, now. Shame at the memory of nights when he had fucked someone else and let her be alone, waiting for him to call. Was it any wonder that things ended the way they had? He was only surprised it hadn't happened sooner. Before she had been taken because of him, beaten to within an inch of her life because of him... before he had called her just a stripper. Before he'd told her to leave the city when things got too dangerous... no, when things got too complicated. Why lie to himself? God knows, there was no one else he could be honest with, now. 

Sitting with his head in his hands, Chang felt shame rolling in his gut. He had never deserved her, that much was clear to him now. He'd had a lot of time to think in the months since they'd ended, replaying times with her in his head. Their fight came back to him the most. The biggest fight they'd had, bigger even than when he'd told her to leave the city. How he regretted his words. She'd been about to say something, but he'd spoken instead, and then it was like she couldn't find her voice. He'd lost his temper. He was frustrated with never understanding what was going on in that mind of hers, always working in ways just out of his reach. What had she been about to say? What had she wanted to tell him? And why, dammit, why hadn't he listened? 

He'd told her that he didn't forgive her for what she had done. But he forgave her; of course he forgave her. She had only done what he had driven her to. A lesser woman would have taken the money and left. He'd forced her grow into something more. He couldn't feel sorry for the woman she had become, he could only feel sorry for how it had happened, for the role he had played, and for how things had ended. He should have been a better man. There was only so far that blaming the city and his line of work would go. 

Wiping his face, Chang stood up and walked over to his dresser. He took out all the photos of her and brought them back over to the window, the better to see them in the moonlight. 


	5. Lately I'm Not Feeling Like Myself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains graphic depictions of abortion.

"Is she in?" 

Astrid had knocked on the door of Hotel Moscow's headquarters, feeling nervous. She had done it a hundred times before, but this time was different.

Things weren't done here the way they were at Triad headquarters. You could never be sure of who would answer the door, and the overall vibe was less professional and organised. These men were military, not lap dogs or climbers. They were loyal to Balalaika, but they didn't exactly put on a face for the business. Perhaps that had something to do with why Hotel Moscow didn't get the same level of respect as the other mafias, Astrid thought. 

The soldier who had opened the door nodded after a long pause, and stepped back, opening the door wider to let her in. Astrid wasn't expected, not today. She was lucky Balalaika was in. Astrid was escorted up to Balalaika's office, a place she could have found herself, but here military protocol and mafia etiquette intersected; no one barged in on the boss unannounced. 

"Come in," Balalaika called, answering the knock. The door opened. 

"Miss Knight is here to see you," Balalaika's man told her, practically obscuring Astrid who stood small behind him. Astrid could almost hear the eyebrow raise. 

"Let her in," she said, finally, and Astrid was allowed to enter. The door clicked shut behind her. 

Balalaika's office was old fashioned, like something straight out of Soviet Russia. There was a lot of wood, a large oak desk, bookcases filled with leather bound books, most of which Astrid knew were about military history or strategy. Heavy curtains hung on the windows, giving the room a closed in feel. The dim light from the setting sun wasn't enough, and the lamp on Balalaika's desk was lit. She was smoking a cigarette, the smoke making the light around her hazy. The whole room smelled of cigar and cigarette smoke. 

"What is it?" The Russian asked, cutting right to the point, taking Astrid in and looking pointedly at the baseball cap she was still wearing. Astrid took it off, thinking that her hair probably needed a wash. But what did it matter, she knew she looked terrible; she hadn't slept, had bags under her eyes. She was wearing her same old clothes, jeans, a sweatshirt, and her denim jacket. Her Beretta was holstered to her thigh. Astrid wrapped her arms in front of herself in a self comforting gesture. 

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She hadn't planned how to say this. It wasn't a role she had ever played before, and Astrid realised too late she probably could have done with a rehearsal. Balalaika watched her steadily. 

"I'm-"

"Don't even finish that sentence," Balalaika cut her off, her voice ice. She stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray before her, those blue eyes not leaving Astrid's own. She could feel the rage from across the room. The unsaid word hung in the air.

 _Pregnant_. 

Balalaika sighed, and leaned back in her chair, spinning it so she was facing the window and looking away from Astrid. 

"Stupid girl!" she spat, suddenly. Astrid looked at the ground. "After everything I've told you, everything I've taught you, the amount of times I told you to stay away from that man... though I never thought your downfall at his hands would be something so trivial." Astrid bit the inside of her lip, saying nothing. Balalaika needed to give her a good tongue lashing, and if Astrid wanted her help she needed to take it. "How did this happen?" 

Astrid raised her eyes to look at Balalaika, not fully understanding the question. The usual way? After a while she shrugged, at a loss.

"Don't shrug. How did this happen? Weren't you using protection?" Astrid didn't respond for a long time, then shook her head, slowly. Balalaika gave an exasperated laugh, and Astrid felt the need to defend herself.

"Back when... before, he always gave me something to take," Astrid told her, chin raising slightly, "I stopped taking it when we... this was just a..." she stopped short, chewing her lip. "I took some of the left-over pills afterwards."

"It doesn't work if you don't take it every day."

"Well I didn't know that!" Balalaika took a slow, deep breath through her nose, clearly trying to control her temper, and Astrid stopped talking. But it was true; no one had ever taught her about this stuff. She really only had a vague idea. 

"Does he know?" Balalaika asked, and Astrid shook her head. "Good. Don't tell me you have any delusions of keeping it?" Astrid shook her head again. That was the last thing she wanted. Even if she could wrap her head around being a mother and having a child of her own to be responsible for, how the fuck was she supposed bring a baby into this rotting city? 

"Good," Balalaika repeated. She watched Astrid in silence for a moment, then stood up and approached her. Astrid felt her shoulders tense, but didn't move, looking up at the taller blonde as she towered over her. Balalaika's scars were more apparent close up. Astrid's eye couldn't help but trace the one marring the skin over her right eye. The eyelashes on that eye were completely burned off, eyeliner and stick on false ones compensating for their loss. For a moment Astrid thought she was going to slap her. Instead she put her hands on either side of her face. "Stupid little girl," she said, more quietly this time, most, if not all, of the accusation gone from her voice.

 

Balalaika was able to find a doctor to see Astrid quickly, but not quickly enough for her taste. The next couple of days passed restlessly for her, and she was unable to sit still. It was like she could feel the thing in her womb growing, getting comfortable, digging it's little roots in further. She wanted it out, wanted the whole thing over with. This wasn't who she was. This wasn't a problem she ever thought she'd have to deal with. 

It was with relief and trepidation that Astrid went to a small building in Roanapur at the address Balalaika had given her, one Astrid didn't know was a clinic. The surgery was one main room with a raised bed and various tools, medicines, and a light. The doctor was business-like, a short older woman with a lot of wiry grey hairs in her otherwise dark head, and rough looking hands. She gave Astrid a glass jar almost as soon as she entered the room. 

"Urine sample," she told her, hardly looking at her. 

She took the jar into the bathroom and did as she had been told. When she brought the sample out the doctor stuck a stick in it, and waited. 

"Have you missed a period?" Astrid nodded.

"Two," she said, and the doctor gave her a look, "I think." Astrid didn't keep regular track of her periods. They came when they came, and it was a pain every time. She hadn't noticed when she missed the first, busy with jobs at the time. When she missed the second she started to do the maths. She had waited, hoping she was just late, knowing every day that wasn't what was going on. When a week passed, then two, when what she thought was just bloating didn't go away and she started vomiting in the mornings, she knew. 

"Is that bad?" she blurted, panic rising in her throat, wondering if she was too far along. The doctor shook her head. 

"Medicine works," she said, picking up the stick, which had changed colour. "If it doesn't, I'll give you more. It won't stay in if you really want it out, I'll see to that. And you are pregnant," she waved the stick, before tossing it in the trash, "if there was any doubt. I'll need to do a pelvic exam, make sure everything's in working order." Astrid got the impression she was supposed to know what that meant, and stared at the doctor.

"Jeans off," she told her, putting on latex gloves, and Astrid started to feel uncomfortable. She undressed, and for once it felt really weird. She'd worked as a stripper, and was used to getting naked in front of other women in the dressing rooms, but standing in this almost sterile room felt very different. Once she was done she got up on the table and lay back.

"Knees up," the doctor told her, and Astrid complied, "now open." She let her knees fall. "More," the doctor put a hand on each knee and pressed, forcing Astrid to open her legs wider. "Good."  
The whole thing was cold, uncomfortable, and at times a little painful. Astrid grabbed fistfuls of the paper sheeting on the bed, staring at the white ceiling, her eyes smarting slightly, jaw clenched. 

"It'd be easier if you relaxed," the doctor told her absentmindedly. Astrid ignored her. 

When it was done she got dressed as quickly as possible, and the doctor gave her report.

"You're further along than I thought," he said, "About 10 weeks. Doesn't show much, happens sometimes. Not too late, but might be a bit rough." She rummaged around in a cabinet, took one pill out of a bottle and dispensed two others into a pill box, then approached Astrid again. "Take this now," she said, handing her the first pill. Astrid put it in her mouth and swallowed. "These in a few hours. At home. Put them in your cheeks," she stuck her tongue into her own cheek and moved it around so Astrid could see, "let them dissolve. There will be a lot of blood, cramps, then it'll come out. It can take a while."  


Astrid went from the doctors office to Hotel Moscow's headquarters, like she had been instructed to do. Balalaika had insisted. Astrid thought she probably wanted to keep an eye on her. This sort of thing wasn't legal in Thailand, so the drugs she had weren't exactly regulated. When she arrived she was shown up to Balalaika's private rooms.

She had never been inside Balalaika's living quarters before, which consisted of a bedroom (closed off from her, now) a sort of parlour, and a bathroom. Everything was decorated in the same style as her office; ornate carpets, heavy curtains, wooden tables and a wet bar. 

"What did she say?" Balalaika asked, and Astrid told her. 

"That I'm about ten weeks along. She gave me a pill and said to take these two a few hours later."

"When did she give you the first pill?"

"Seventeen-hundred hours." Balalaika looked at the clock. 

"You should probably wait until twenty-one-hundred, to be safe," she said, after thinking for a moment. "You can stay here. I have some business to see to. I'll be back before you take it. There are cigarettes by the bar, but don't drink." 

"Why not?"

"I have no idea how it could interfere with the drugs," Balalaika looked at her sternly. "I'm not taking any chances."

She left, leaving Astrid alone with four hours to kill. After about thirty seconds she walked over to the bar and grabbed the cigarettes, a lighter, and an ashtray. She took them back over to the sofa and put them on the coffee table, kicking off her shoes and curling up on the sofa, lying back, staring at the ceiling or out the window, chain smoking and thinking.

 

Balalaika came back at twenty-one-hundred hours on the dot. The sun was setting, making the room glow red. Astrid sat up, looking at the Russian over the back of the sofa, brushing her hair back. Balalaika took in the full ashtray.

"You couldn't have read a book?"

"I was thinking."

Balalaika sighed. "Too much thinking isn't good, _volchitsa_ ," she told her. "Better to do." Astrid did as she said, and took out the pills, putting one in each cheek. They were small, she barely noticed them. The pair sat in silence.

"How long do you think until it starts working?" 

"I couldn't say." Astrid sighed. 

"A lot of waiting." The younger woman sat cross legged on the sofa, facing the Russian who's long legs were crossed in front of her. Astrid stared out the window at the fading light, and Balalaika watched her face. 

"Did you call him?" she asked, suddenly, her preferred method of getting a true reaction out of someone. Astrid didn't even blink, her large eyes turning back to Balalaika. The setting sun glanced off her cheekbone and made her eyes glow, but it also highlighted the dark circles under her young eyes. 

"No," she answered, truthfully. Balalaika took out another pack of cigarettes and lit one up for herself, before handing the pack to Astrid, who leaned back against the arm of the sofa. 

"I thought you would," she admitted.

"I wouldn't have known what to say," Astrid told her, turning the cigarette over in her hands a few times before lighting it. "You told me not to tell him." Balalaika could tell there was more Astrid wanted to say, and didn't respond yet. "Shouldn't he be here? Isn't that how it's supposed to go?" 

Balalaika was about to ask if Astrid was really asking for a 'traditional' abortion, but decided it would be too cruel. She'd save it for later. 

"Men aren't made for this sort of thing," she said, instead, "they don't have the stomach for it. It's better if we take care of it ourselves." 

"Is it bad?" Astrid asked, biting her lower lip in a way she thought was discrete. Balalaika looked at her.

"No, dear," she said, "everything will be fine." She didn't know why she lied.

 

Astrid's pregnancy was far enough along that the doctor had given her a strong dose to ensure a successful miscarriage. After only an hour she started to feel sick, and then the cramps started. 

"Fuck!" she spat, breathless, almost doubled over on the couch. 

"You'll want to get undressed, _detenysh_ ," Balalaika said, sounding casual, "you'll start bleeding soon. You can go in the bathroom, I'll be right out here." 

Astrid made a small sound of assent, waiting for the worst of the current cramp to subside. This was worse than any period she'd ever had. When the worst of it was over she stood up, slightly unsteady and nauseous, keeping one arm folded across her stomach. She made her way to the bathroom, and shut the door behind her. 

The bathroom was all white tile, with a large ornate tub. Astrid pulled off her jeans, and found blood already in her underwear. She kept her white t-shirt on, and doubled over as another cramp hit. She wound up on the floor, leaning against the bathtub, bleeding onto the floor, only just having the presence of mind to grab a towel. Now that she was alone she let the tears roll down her face freely. 

Two hours passed, and Balalaika hadn't heard anything. She wasn't worried, she knew it usually took at least this long. The Russian kept one eye on the clock and one ear turned towards the bathroom door as she read and smoked. 

A distinct, if muffled, sob came from the bathroom, and Balalaika stood up. She approached the bathroom briskly, knocked, and entered immediately after. 

The white, fully lit bathroom was much brighter than her living room, which was dimly lit now that it was night time. Astrid sat on the floor, her thighs, hands, and the floor in front of her covered in blood. The towel she had put down was soaked through and had run it's use. Her white t-shirt was stained, and even her tear streaked face had blood smeared across it from where she had presumably wiped it at some point. 

On the floor in front of her, in amongst the blood and the clots, was a lump of greyish tissue, clearly distinguishable for what it was. 

"Get rid of it," Astrid demanded, her voice rough and cracked, looking away "just get rid of it." Balalaika took another towel from the rail and scooped up the thing without fuss. 

When she came back she walked over to the tub and started to run a bath. Her little she-wolf was scowling at nothing, anger and defensiveness masking the pain she must be feeling, physical and otherwise. While the bath was running Balalaika knelt down and pulled Astrid's blood stained t-shirt over her head, tossing it into the trash. 

She only waited until the bath was half full before coaxing Astrid, who was still sitting as though frozen on the floor, to stand and climb in. The water instantly began to turn red. Astrid sat with her knees pulled up to herself, and Balalaika sighed. She took a flannel and dipped it in the bloody water before lifting Astrid's chin and bringing the damp cloth to her face to wash away the blood. The eyes that stared back at her looked dead, dark. 

"You were right," Astrid said, surprising Balalaika by speaking into the sterile silence, the only other sound the tap slowly dripping and echoing off the tile. 

"Hmmm?" Balalaika continued cleaning Astrid of the blood. 

"It was good that Bai wasn't here." 

Once Astrid was clean Balalaika got two towels, one for Astrid, and another to throw over the mess of blood on the floor. She would need new towels, after this; the stains wouldn't come out. Astrid stood up, rivulets of blood pink water running down her body. She took the towel and stepped out of the bath, pressing it to her face to dry off. When she was finished drying herself the towel was mostly pinkish red from the water. Balalaika gave her a robe, mink grey and made of a thin, incredibly soft material.

"I could bleed all over it," Astrid told her, shaking her head. 

"It doesn't matter. I have others." Astrid shrugged and complied, pulling on the robe and tying it loosely. She looked pale. Balalaika walked back into her rooms, and Astrid followed, her arms folded firmly across herself. She poured two large glasses of vodka and gave one to Astrid, who sat down on the sofa and gulped it down clumsily. Usually Balalaika would have commented, but today she let it slide. 

Balalaika sat next to her, and Astrid surprised her by lying down, curling up on the sofa with her head in her lap. It was akin to finally gaining the trust of a particularly mistrustful stray cat, Balalaika thought, as she brushed the young woman's hair back from her face. 

"I didn't know it would hurt that much," Astrid said, her voice slightly gravelly, "I didn't know it would look..." 

"Shhh," Balalaika hushed her, continuing to brush her hair back. 

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" 

"We don't talk about this, _volchitsa_ ," Balalaika responded, wearily, "you won't want to, either. We just take care of it." 

They sat like that for a long time, in the dim light of Balalaika's living quarters. Eventually, Balalaika realised Astrid had fallen asleep. She reached for her cigarettes without disturbing her, and lit one up. Looking down at the young woman, Balalaika thought, not for the first time, of the child she had saved in Afghanistan. Tried to save. She'd taken that little girl out of a war-zone, but it hadn't worked out for either of them. Soon afterwards Balalaika had gained her scars, and the girl... 

Astrid reminded her of that child, ever since the reconned photos of her had come across her desk. It wasn't just the ones in which she was a wide eyed girl in the desert, dressed in a military uniform and holding a gun, clearly younger than eighteen to anyone who cared to look, that put her in mind of that time in Afghanistan. More than any of the others it was the photo taken for her file when she was entered into the foster system that reminded Balalaika of the refugee child she had tried to save. Same dark, messy hair, same big eyes that had seen too much, same set to her jaw. No parents; no protection, no guidance. Easy prey. 

To no longer be prey, it wasn't enough to learn to protect yourself; one had to become the predator. That's what she was trying to teach Astrid. She saw the potential in her, to be a wolf, able to survive harsh winters and near starvation and still make it by on her teeth and her claws and her wits. But for now, for all her skill and all the blood she had seen, all she had weathered, she was still just a wolf-cub. 

There was a soft knock on the door, and a moment later Boris entered. Balalaika raised a finger to her lips, still holding her lit cigarette, and Boris walked silentely into the room, looking at Astrid asleep on his boss's lap. 

Her Sergeant could move like a ghost when he needed to, despite his large size. When he spoke it was in Russian, his voice low and deep.

"Chang has been on the phone," he told her, "looking for the girl. Apparently he's been trying to get in touch with her for a few days now." 

"What did you tell him?"

"That you'd reply at your earliest convenience." 

Balalaika chuckled. There was no reason not to tell Chang that Astrid was here, but Boris wouldn't divulge information on Balalaika's behalf, no matter how innocuous. She stood up, lifting Astrid's head carefully as she did so, and placing a pillow beneath it. Astrid didn't wake. 

"We had better tell him she's here," Balalaika said, walking over to her desk where her phone was, "before he panics and tears the city apart looking for her." Boris didn't respond to Balalaika's exaggeration. The biggest reaction her humour had ever pulled from him was a slightly raised eyebrow. 

"She's a grenade," he said instead, as Balalaika picked up the phone, causing her to pause and look to him to elaborate. Boris' lips tightened in a way that Balalaika knew meant he was holding back, out of respect. 

"Speak freely, Sergeant." 

"Our alliance with the Triad is tenuous." 

"And the girl is one more common interest that we share." 

"For now." 

Balalaika sighed. She took his point. Astrid was just as likely to become a flash point as to strengthen the alliance between the Triad and Hotel Moscow. 

"I understand you, Sergeant," she said, letting him know the discussion was over. She dialed Chang's number with a manicured finger. "Chang," Balalaika's tone changed when Chang answered, becoming silkier, unruffled, "I believe you've been calling." 

Balalaika walked over to where Astrid lay, sleeping, the phone chord stretching, and sat down on the arm of the sofa. 

"She's here. No, you can't. She's sleeping." Boris listened to the indistinct sounds of Chang talking on the other end of the line. "That is none of your concern... really, Chang, are you her lover or her father?" A pause, a laugh to cover it, then more talking. "I'll tell her." 

Balalaika stood up and returned to her desk, setting the phone back in it's cradle, before walking over to the double doors that led to her bedroom. She entered and left them open, returning a moment later with a blanket, which she draped over Astrid. 

"You're letting her sleep here?" Boris asked, and Balalaika nodded.

"I don't see why not. I think I'll retire myself, Sergeant. It's been a long night." 

"Yes, Kapitain," Boris nodded and headed for the door, his movements regimented and immediate. Balalaika smiled slightly to herself as he closed the doors to her rooms behind him, leaving her alone with the sleeping Astrid. He was always so completely professional, even when they were alone... it was better that way. 

Sometimes Balalaika allowed herself to indulge in fantasies where her Sergeant was not quite so professional. The girl asleep on her sofa right now thought she didn't understand what she felt for Chang, but Balalaika... Balalaika understood. Still, sometimes she wondered what would happen if she, like Astrid, gave into temptation, took the less prudent path... 

Shaking her head to rid herself of such thoughts, Balalaika retired into her bedroom. She shut the doors behind her before pausing for a moment, and opening one a crack. Just in case. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a time hop, again.
> 
> I tried to play with the "mother," theme a lot in this chapter, which I think is evident. I can't see this level of indulgence being a regular thing from Balalaika, but maybe just this once. 
> 
> As before, "volchitsa," is Russian for "she-wolf," and "detenysh," is Russian for "little-one," with connotations of a cub or baby animal.
> 
> Astrid obviously has quite a difficult time in this chapter. Not all abortions are this rough, but I've also not exaggerated (especially considering the circumstances surrounding her particular situation). This chapter isn't meant to make any kind of political comment.


	6. Try Sleeping With A Broken Heart

Eda was sitting at the bar when Astrid arrived, and Revy was no where to be seen, which was perfect. If she had been looking for a sign to do this, this was it. Eda was just the woman Astrid was looking for, and Revy would only poke fun and make the whole situation embarassing. It was time to move on from Bai, and Astrid had an itch she needed to be scratched. She needed a push. 

"Hey Eda," she said, sitting down and ordering a double shot of whiskey from Bao. 

"Hey, Asti," Eda caught the look on Astrid's face, "shit, what's eating you?"

"Nothin'," Astrid told her, staunchly, "doesn't matter." She downed her shot and ordered another glass. Eda raised an eyebrow, then laughed. 

"Alright then," she said. Astrid wasn't looking to get shit-faced, but she wanted to get from sober to tipsy as quickly as possible. She and Eda talked shit while they drank companionably, and once Astrid had enough liquid courage in her she raised the question on her mind.

"So, Eda," she began, trying to sound casual, "you fuck a lot of guys, right?"

"You callin' me a whore?"

"Not to your face."

"Bitch. Alright, yeah I get my fair share. Why?" A slow grin was spreading across the nun's face, and Astrid knew she was loving this, and was playing right into her hands. She took another drink and stared straight ahead, trying to act casual. 

"Well, I was wondering," she continued, "you know, how you do it?" Eda let out a loud laugh. 

"You're asking me how to have sex?"

"No, dipshit, I know how to fucking have sex!" 

"Then what are you talking about?"

"I mean how do you, you know," Astrid waved her hand, searching for the words, "pick up a guy, or whatever?" Eda laughed again, and Astrid was quickly regretting this decision. 

"Usually they do the picking up, sweet-cheeks," Eda cackled, "that's never been a problem for me. But hey, if you can't find someone to get you laid-"

"I can get laid, bitch!" 

"Then what are you asking for my help for?"

"I- fuck you, Eda." Astrid took another drink, her cheeks flushed. "Forget about it, alright?" She had been thinking about it, and realised her options were limited. Of the men she knew, none of them were viable options. Anyone from the Triad was out- that would start some real shit, and besides, any Triad member would have to have a death wish to touch her- same went for Hotel Moscow, because although she doubted Balalaika would care, she didn't want to sew discord between the two groups. Even if... no, Hotel Moscow were out. And Revy would kill her if she fucked Rock. Literally, kill her. Who else did that really leave? 

"Alright, alright, look, I'm sorry, okay?" Eda's apology was somewhat undercut by the huge grin she hadn't managed to wipe off her face. "Explain the problem to me again." Astrid scowled at her, and, after a moment of deciding the nun wasn't making fun of her (as much as she was capable of, anyway), she spoke. 

"There's no one I know who I could..."

"Fuck?"

"Fine, fuck. So...?" Astrid trailed off and shrugged. 

"Astrid, just look around," Eda told her, "there are a ton of guys in here." Bao chose that moment to appear in front of them on the bar. Eda grinned and wiggled her eyebrow.

"No."

 

 

It turned out Eda had been right. Who the guy was didn't really matter. He didn't try and sell her on any lines, or tell her it all meant something it didn't; if he had, Astrid would have been out of there before he could say another word. The thought of having sex with someone only to find out afterwards that they'd conned you made her skin crawl. She'd take honesty every time.

It was a new experience, and Astrid found that she preferred to be on top with someone new, at least to start, and that she only really got into it when he bent her over and fucked her from behind, when she could focus only on the feel of him and take care of herself. It was different. It was scratching an itch, and that was all. Astrid couldn't say she particularly cared for it. 

When they finished Astrid got dressed while he lay in bed, smoking. 

"You don't have to leave, you know," he said, smiling up at her as Astrid pulled on her jeans. 

"I know," she said, shooting him a small smile back, "but let's not make more of this than it was." He shrugged.

"If that's the way you want it." Astrid pulled on her boots and holstered her Hardballer, taking out a cigarette, holding it in her hand for when she left. "Maybe I'll see you around?"

"Maybe." Astrid left, lighting up as soon as she was outside. It was dark, but the streetlamps were on. Astrid didn't mind walking home alone at night, even in Roanapur. For one thing she had her gun, and for another she had her reputation. No one messed with her in this city anymore, at least, no one who knew her. She smoked as she walked. 

When she made it back to her apartment Astrid shut the door behind her and locked it securely. She lent her back on the closed door, closing her eyes, taking a breath, and started to cry. 

She wasn't upset with what she had done, it had gone okay. She was sad for what it meant; she was moving on. She wasn't his any more. This felt like severing the last tie between them, and committing to her new life without him. This was the beginning of the rest of her life, without him. Right now she couldn't imagine not wanting to be with him, but she knew that with time she would change, forced to adapt to the way things were. For now she held onto the pain, and the bruise he had left on her heart, because she knew one day both would fade. 

Astrid clutched the pendant around her neck, tears rolling down her cheeks, in two minds whether or not to keep wearing it. It was a gift from Bai, so maybe she should give it up, too. But she couldn't bring herself to take it off.

Keep it, then, she decided. As a memento of what had been. A reminder. Never again...

Astrid walked into her bedroom and kicked off her boots. She lay down on the bed fully clothed and curled up on her side, wiping her face roughly. 

 


	7. In Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter in which the reader interviews Astrid. Don't worry about how or why this came about; imagine yourself in the red room, Twin Peaks style. 
> 
> Just don't think about it.

_She seems agitated, uncooperative. Repeatedly looks towards window. Offers of refreshment declined._

**Astrid Knight:** What exactly is this? 

 **Reader:** Don't worry about it; we just want you to answer some questions.

 **AK:** I don't-

 **R:** Nothing incriminating, if that's your concern. Easy questions.

_A crumpled cigarette packet, pulled from her back pocket. She lights up. No permission given, no ashtray. Long silence._

**R:** Can we start?

_She smokes._

**AK:** And if I don't-?

 **R:** If you don't answer, then nothing. No repercussions. Say what you will.

_No answer. I decide to proceed with questioning._

**R:** What is your idea of perfect happiness?  
  
_Long silence. Reluctance._

 **AK:** I've never thought about it too much. Maybe...  
  
_Silence, longer than before. I begin to fear a complete shut out. Then;_

 **AK:** I'm afraid of wanting something I can never have. I never thought about happiness when I was a kid. What kid does? Then... I wasn't a kid anymore. And I wasn't looking for happiness, I was living day to day. I try to keep moving forward. I don't like to dwell on things. I don't like to overthink. But for right now, perfect happiness would be...

_Looks away. Long pause. She is elsewhere._

**AK:** I like the ocean here. I want to float in the ocean, in the sun. I like the open space, the freedom. I like the heat. Maybe I should get a boat.  
_I don't believe her._

 **R:** What is your greatest fear?

 **AK:** Being trapped. Gunfire used to make me jumpy, but I got over it. Being trapped, or taken, put somewhere you'd never escape, where no one knew you were there, would ever know... and just left. There are people who can make a person disappear. I don't want to disappear. I'm scared of being thrown in a hole somewhere and left to rot.

_I believe her._

**R:** What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?  
  
_She shifts, irritated at the question. Affronted. I don't let my gaze drop. I know her well, by now._

 **AK:** I'm... I'm a lot of things. But I don't hate myself for them. I am what I am. But really deplore... I don't know. I'm honest with myself, about who I am and why I do things. I shut down, sometimes, shut people out, run instead of face things... I don't like that. Maybe that's a weakness.

 **R:** What is the trait you most deplore in others?

 **AK:** I'm learning to hate hypocrisy.

 **R:** Which living person do you most admire?  
  
_She shifts in her seat._

 **AK:** Um... I guess... I dunno. I admire Miss Balalaika. I guess.

 **R:** What is your greatest extravagance?

 **A:** Guns. My sniper rifle, to be exact.

 **R:** What is your current state of mind?

 **AK:** Accepting. 

_No hesitation._

**R:** What do you consider the most overrated virtue?

 **AK:** Niceness. It's preformative by definition. Nice doesn't mean kind or good or any of that. Luckily, there's not a lot of it in this city.

 **R:** On what occasion do you lie?

 **AK:** I'm a bad liar when it comes to the small stuff. I'm not good at lying about how I feel or what I think about something, and I resent having to perform. But I lie about things that don't really matter, like my name.

 **R:** What do you most dislike about your appearance?

_A small wrinkle forms above her nose. She considers the question._

**AK:** I'm... not short, but I'm not tall. I can't pull off looking... you know-

_She gestures_

-elegant or glamorous. It just doesn't come together for me, even when I try. There's always something that's off.

 **R:** Which living person do you most despise?

 **AK:** I don't have an answer to that, anymore; anyone who I would have named is dead now.

 **R:** What is the quality you most like in a man?

 **AK:** Strength. Strength of character, of conviction... all of it.

 **R:** What is the quality you most like in a woman?

 **AK:** Strength.

 **R:** Which words or phrases do you most overuse?

 **AK:** Balalaika doesn't like it when I say "I dunno," and the like, or when I shrug, but that doesn't count. And maybe I swear a lot.

_A pause. She doesn't elaborate._

**R:** What or who is the greatest love of your life?

_Long pause._

**AK:** I mean... do I really need to answer that?

_I begin to respond; she interrupts._

**AK:** No, fuck this, I don't need to answer any-

 **R:** When and where were you happiest?

_Long pause._

**AK:** With him, okay. With him.

_She looks away._

**R:** Which talent would you most like to have?

 **AK:** I don't know... most talents are useless. I can already shoot, not like Bai or Revy, but I'm pretty good. Maybe it would be cool to dual wield. Or throw knives. Then again, maybe I'd like to be able to hold my breath for a really long time. I could swim further and deeper. I'd have to choose between that or knife throwing.

 **R:** If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

 **AK:** If I wanted to change something about myself I would change it. Maybe I'd change my temper.

 **R:** What do you consider your greatest achievement?

 **AK:** My independence.

_She refuses to look at me, now. Her patience is running thin._

**R:** If you were to die and come back as a person or a thing, what would it be?

 **AK:** A bird.

 **R:** Where would you most like to live?

 **AK:** Roanapur. There's no where else in the world like it. No where else for people like us.

 **R:** What is your most treasured possession?

 **AK:** I don't put too much stock in possessions. You sometimes need to be able to drop everything and leave it all behind to save yourself. If I had to pick, it would be my sniper rifle... or the necklace. Probably the gun, though.

 **R:** What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

 **AK:** Chicago.

 **R:** What is your favourite occupation?

 **AK:** I like what I do now better than being a stripper or the military. I'm good at it, and it makes a living.

_She picks at her nails, still refusing to make eye contact._

**R:** What is your most marked characteristic?

 **AK:** I'm stubborn. I have a bit of a temper, I'm sometimes abrasive.

 **R:** What do you most value in your friends?

 **AK:** Loyalty.

 **R:** Who are your favourite writers?

_She shrugs._

**AK:** I've only really read military history, which is a recent thing. I like Sun Tzu. There was a fantasy book I read when I was a kid... but I don't remember the name now.

 **R:** Who is your hero of fiction?

 **AK:** I really don't know. I don't read much fiction. What I read, I read when I was a kid, and now I don't remember much from that time.

 **R:** Which historical figure do you most identify with?

_Answers quickly._

**AK:** Lyudmila Pavlichenko, she was the deadliest female sniper in history. Balalaika told me about her. I think admire might be more accurate than identify, but... there are things about her I identify with. I don't have her kill count, yet.

 **R:** Who are your heroes in real life?

 **AK** : There are no heroes in real life.

 **R:** What are your favourite names?

 **AK:** Names don't mean anything.

 **R:** What is it that you most dislike?

 **AK:** Stupid questions.

_Patience waning._

**R:** What is your greatest regret?

 **AK:** Not pulling the trigger.

 **R:** How would you like to die?

 **AK:** Being shot would be most fitting.

 **R:** What is your motto?

 **AK:** Keep moving.

_She stands. The interview is over._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't remember where I got these questions, but I didn't come up with them... when I remember I'll update this.


End file.
